Letters from Milky Way
by LurkerLa
Summary: When mail finally comes to Atlantis, it's a good day for almost everyone. But John Sheppard buries himself in administrative work, and Elizabeth wants to know why. SheppardWeir friendship at first, probably more later.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Letters from Milky Way (Part 1 of ?)  
Author: La  
Rating: Teen, I guess, just 'cause I think some words might work their way into it in later chaptersPairing: John/Elizabeth friendship at first, maybe more eventually  
Summary: When mail finally comes to Atlantis, it's a good day for almost everyone. But John Sheppard buries himself in administrative work, and Elizabeth wants to know why.  
Spoilers: Only vaguely for Intruder, and some second season general ones. Oh, and there's mention of a character from my fic "What's in a Name?" although I think he'll be explained further on in this one, so you really don't have to read it first.  
Author's Note: Unlike my other fics, I don't really have this one all planned out or mostly written, although I do have a general idea of where I'm heading with it. So, we'll just see what happens. :) Constructive criticism and feedback are appreciated, as always.

Many thanks to Melyanna for coming up with the title and helping me with the summary.

* * *

Elizabeth ran her thumb along the edges of the envelopes, tapping the rubber banded bundle of letters against her palm. Mail came rarely to Atlantis, arriving on no set schedule on the Daedalus, so when it did come she tried to savor it. With a stack of letters this thick, she figured she should be able to draw out reading them for at least a month. 

Of course, all the Atlantis personnel had authorized the SGC to open any mail they might receive, if only so that during their scheduled check-ins they could be apprised of any pressing matters. But the majority of these briefings were taken up with bureaucratic matters, so anything less than urgent was put off until the Daedalus could bring the mail bags.

Elizabeth set the letters on her desk, and stared at them for a moment. She'd already glanced through the return addresses and seen one from her brother, and it was tempting, so tempting, to put off finishing her report and just open the letter. No one would blame her; all of the Atlantis personnel had dropped their earlier activities to focus on the mail.

Well, nearly all. John hadn't even shown up for the mail distribution, which was just as well, Elizabeth decided. There had been no mail for him, and his presence would have only drawn attention to that fact.

He'd never had mail, and while he tended to dismiss this as unimportant, Elizabeth couldn't help but worry that he was only hiding his hurt. She stole a glance at her own letters, feeling guilty that she had something exciting to look forward to while John might be struggling with disappointment and anger. Making a decision, she closed her computer, report unfinished, and, leaving the packet of letters on her desk, she headed out of her office.  
------------------------------------------------------------  
John briefly pressed a hand over his eyes before glancing down once more at the sheet he was holding. He could have had someone else do the manual inventory of the armory – heck, he probably should have if only because he still had a mountain of paperwork to go through – but after the third person had come bounding into his office, asking for a little free time to read through the mail, John had needed an escape. And the SGC required bimonthly manual inventories anyway, so at least he was accomplishing something.

He just hadn't realized how absolutely boring it would be. Look at the list. P-90? Count them. Make tally marks. Discover that you can't tell if that's a smudge on the paper or a tally mark. Count them again. Move to the next item on the list. It was so mind numbingly boring that he couldn't help but think about other things.

And thinking was the last thing he wanted to do.

The first time the mail had arrived, John had stood with the rest of the senior personnel as Elizabeth handed out bundles. He hadn't been expecting anything, and wasn't particularly disappointed when his name wasn't called. Elizabeth had been worried, he knew, but he'd assured her that it wasn't important.

After all, he'd sent the letter while they were on Earth, and there was no way a reply could have been sent in time to arrive, make it through screening, and be placed with the bundles for the Daedalus before they left.

The next mail delivery he'd been somewhat hopeful, but he'd kept his mask in place, so no one noticed his disappointment when there was no letter for him. Although... Elizabeth had kept a rather close watch on him for the next few days, so perhaps he hadn't been as successful as he'd thought.

This time he hadn't even bothered to go, knowing that if there were anything for him someone would come find him. But the only visitors he'd had were overly exuberant 25 year olds, ecstatic to hear from their families.

He heard a crinkle, and realized he was crushing the inventory list. He loosened his grip, smoothing the paper against the wall. Sighing, he tried to turn his attention to something else, but his mind wouldn't cooperate.

Why hadn't they replied? He'd sent the letter to his sister, figuring she at least wouldn't burn it on sight, and asked her to forward it on to their father. The letter had contained detailed instructions for contacting him. So why hadn't his father replied? Even if he had refused to read the letter, John had at least expected Kathy to send something.

Slamming his fist against the wall, John took a deep breath and tried to focus once again on the inventory.

He'd hoped this time would be different, that his father –

"John?"

His head snapped up at Elizabeth's voice, and he quickly composed his features. "In here!" he called.

She smiled as she rounded a shelf and stopped in front of him. "There you are. Lieutenant Goldman told me you'd skipped out of your office. Paperwork too boring?"

John grinned and snapped the list he had in his hand. "I'm not cut out for being chained to a desk," he replied. "Thought doing the manual inventory would be more interesting."

"And is it?" she asked, though her tone implied she already knew the answer.

"It's the most boring thing I've ever done," he said matter-of-factly.

"I see." Her amusement was evident. "Well, since no one else seems to be getting any work done, I thought I'd come see if I could tempt you into a cup of coffee with me in the mess."

John had her by the arm and was steering her out of the armory before she had finished speaking. "Just let me drop this off at my office first."

The sound of her laughter helped chase away, at least for the moment, the bitterness he was feeling.  
-------------------------------------------------------------  
As Elizabeth headed back to her office, the smile she'd worn for the last hour dropped away, replaced by a thoughtful frown.

John had been upset by something, she knew that. And she was nearly positive it had to do with the arrival of the mail, despite his earlier comments about not expecting anything. But she hadn't known how to broach the subject.

Despite the friendship that had grown between them, much of John was still a mystery to her. He rarely talked about his past – although, to be fair, neither did she. But somehow he'd drawn out a few stories of her childhood with her brothers, while she knew nothing about him beyond his military record.

No, that wasn't true. She knew plenty about John – that he was loyal and strong and intelligent and thoughtful (in strange, roundabout ways sometimes, but thoughtful all the same) and that he didn't value himself nearly as highly as he should – but she knew nothing about his life before the military, and only a thumbnail sketch of his life with the military prior to the Atlantis expedition.

She was sure that his current frustration and disappointment had something to do with his past. But how to approach the subject when John had given no indications that he wanted her to know, and when he might resent her prying would require a great deal more thought than she'd given it so far.

And she valued their friendship too much to risk it without carefully thinking things through first.

Reaching her office, she dropped into her desk chair with a sigh. Putting off her worries for the moment, she decided she needed something cheerful to do for a while. Ignoring the paperwork that waited for her, she pulled her brother's letter out of the stack and slit the envelope. A folded newspaper article fell out, but she put it aside for the moment.

_Dear Lizzy,_

_Yes, I know you hate it when I call you that. But I'm miles and miles away from wherever you are, so there's nothing you can do about it._

_I know you can't tell me where you are, but it must be pretty primitive if you can't even get on a phone and call us. I just hope this letter arrives. Seems strange to send it to Colorado when I know you're probably halfway around the planet, but I guess distribution centers can be anywhere. /pre _

Elizabeth had to smile a bit at that. Try halfway around the universe, Tom, she thought.

_  
Things have been going well here. My firm just got a contract for a new office building downtown, so I've been pulling some late nights at the office. But that should be over shortly when I shove some of the work off on the other partners._

_Emily got stuck teaching freshmen English this year, so we've all been hearing about split infinitives and comma splices at the dinner table. I think the girls have decided that a comma splice is some kind of giant lizard monster that eats... well, I don't know what it eats, but they've both had nightmares about it the last two nights, so I think Emily's going to cut back on the ranting._

_The girls are both fine. Jennifer started first grade last week, and she absolutely adores her teacher. Claire's in kindergarten – and I have to say that I'm glad the school system here went to all day kindergarten, because with both Emily and me working it helps to have the girls in school all day._

_Mom and Dad are fine, too, and David wanted me to tell you that he's still raising hell in Arizona. They all say to send you their love, and Jennifer wanted me to add that she still sleeps with that stuffed dolphin you gave her two Christmases ago._

_Now, Lizzy, I have some bad news. I saw in the paper last week that Dr. Roth died. I cut it out for you and sent it with the letter. It says he'd been sick for a while. I know how important he was to you, and I thought you'd want to know. Emily and I took the liberty of sending a little something in your name – you can see they wanted donations for a relief organization. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I thought you'd want to know._

_I miss you, and I hope we get to see you again soon._

_Love,_

_Tom_

Elizabeth brought a hand to her mouth as she put the letter down on her desk and reached for the article. It reiterated what Tom had written. Albert Roth had passed away in his sleep after a lingering illness. She wasn't terribly surprised – he'd been elderly when he was her thesis adviser more than fifteen years ago – but it didn't make it hurt less.

Dropping the article beside the letter, she stood up and walked to a shelf on the wall. She pulled a book off it and opened it to the flyleaf and Dr. Roth's inscription to her.

She sat on the couch and stared at it, eyes so glassy with tears that she couldn't make out the words.

And when John entered her office, having completely given up on work for the day, that was how he found her.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Er, forgot to put one in the first chapter, so here it is. Don't belong to me, I'm just playing. This applies to all chapters in this story. That about cover it?

Author's Note: You might noticed that I've upped the rating on this - it's turning out darker than I thought and there's a pretty dark turn in the next chapter.

Fixed a few typographical errors - but if anyone notices any more, please let me know. :)

* * *

Given the jovial mood in which he'd left her, John was completely unprepared to find Elizabeth sitting on her couch, staring at a book and looking on the verge of tears. His carefree greeting died on his lips, replaced with a worried "Elizabeth?"

She looked up, startled, and blinked, causing two tears to make their way down her cheek. She quickly brushed them away, opening her eyes wide and blinking a few more times to prevent any more from escaping.

John walked into the room, stopping in front of her. "Are you okay?"

Elizabeth set the book aside and pressed her hands between her knees. She appeared to ponder his question for a moment before she nodded.

John dropped to the couch beside her. "Are you sure? 'Cause you didn't really look it a minute ago."

"Flatterer," she said, and he had to smile a bit. "Really, John. I'll be fine. I just got some bad news from home." She glanced to her desk and the letter and newspaper clipping that lay on it.

She took a breath, composing herself. "Was there something you needed?"

John watched her suspiciously for a moment. She wasn't okay, he knew, but she didn't seem to want to dwell on it right now. Knowing her, she'd wait until she was in the privacy of her own room for that.

He wanted to ask more questions, but sensed what she really wanted right now was a distraction, so he told her the truth.

"No. I just wasn't getting anything done and came to see if you wanted to play hooky with me."

She shot a guilty look at the stack of folders on her desk. "Tempting as that sounds, I really can't. I'm behind on my reports as it is."

He nudged her slightly with his shoulder. "Not even for fifteen minutes? I just need some fresh air before I go back to my dungeon of an office."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Dungeon? John, your office has a wall that's made entirely of windows."

As he shot her a charming half-grin, she couldn't help but smile slightly in return. "All right. I could use a bit of fresh air myself. But only fifteen minutes," she warned. "Then I have to get back to work."

* * *

As they stood on the balcony, gazing down at the city below, Elizabeth had to admit that she was glad John had talked her out of her office. She really did need the break before returning to ("Don't you mean starting?" her conscience piped up) work.

She also needed to give herself some time to grieve, she knew. Dr. Roth had been more than just her thesis adviser. He'd been her mentor, her guide, helping to mold her thoughts and shape the person she was today. Although she'd only stood in the same room with him a handful of times since her graduation, they'd kept in touch through letters and emails as her career progressed. When she'd taken the position at Georgetown Dr. Roth had been both happy and dismayed – happy to have her following his tradition of shaping young political minds, dismayed because he'd hoped she would keep treading the waters of international politics a bit longer.

But now was not the time, she told herself, catching John watching her from the corner of his eye. She'd have time later, when she wasn't working.

And she'd sensed John's own frustration and disappointment earlier. Without knowing the cause of it, she didn't want to add her own burdens to whatever ones he might be carrying. So she smiled, and thanked him for making her come out to the balcony.

He just smiled in return.

They stood in companionable silence for the next few minutes, and Elizabeth found herself thinking about Dr. Roth once more. She couldn't help but feel guilty that she hadn't kept in touch with him the past few years, although she supposed that working first in a top secret facility in Colorado, then in Antarctica, and lately in another galaxy didn't exactly make for easy correspondence.

But she'd managed with her family, sending letters from time to time back on Earth, and even now via the Daedalus, and she could have managed with Dr. Roth as well. The truth was she didn't know what to tell him. How could she explain why she had left her position at Georgetown to work with the military, when he of all people knew how vehemently she'd been against them? She had been afraid she would disappoint him, and it seemed easier to simply stop writing.

So lost in her own thoughts was she that when John spoke it startled her enough to make her jump.

"We're friends, aren't we?" he asked.

She turned to look at him, confused. "I'd like to think so," she replied.

"I'm just saying... friends support each other."

"Yes, they do," she said, knowing that she wasn't making this easy on him.

He sighed. "Look, all I mean is that if you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen."

She leaned against the railing, looking out over the wide expanse of ocean. "Thank you." She glanced back at him. His concern was evident, and she found herself wanting to soothe some of it away.

"My brother just wrote me that an old professor of mine had passed away. We were friends after I graduated. I just need some time to think about it."

"Oh," John said, and something flashed briefly across his face, something Elizabeth couldn't identify. It reminded her of her own worry about his feelings.

"We _are_ friends, John," she said. "And... Look, I know that something is bothering you, and it has to do with the arrival of the mail."

His expression closed off before he turned his back on her, directing his gaze over the corner of the balcony.

She echoed his own words back at him. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen."

When he didn't reply, Elizabeth sighed softly and nodded to herself. "I have to get back to work. If you want to talk, you know where to find me." She waited a few moments more, before turning and heading back inside.

As the door closed, she glanced behind her. He'd turned again, mirroring her earlier position of leaning on the balcony and gazing out over the ocean. She sighed briefly before walking to her office.

* * *

It took two days, but eventually the general fervor of the arrival of the mail died down, and John thought he had pushed his own feelings to the back of his mind.

Elizabeth hadn't come to find him to talk about her professor, which was all for the best, he decided. When she'd first mentioned the reason for her sorrow, he'd felt an irrational surge of jealousy, first over the fact that her brother would write to her and care enough to tell her about the professor, and then because she'd had someone to be so close to, someone in addition to her family. He already felt guilty for being jealous over something that obviously distressed her; he wasn't sure he wanted to compound that feeling by learning even more about her past, more that might make him envious.

It also relieved him somewhat of the burden she'd laid on him during their last private conversation on the balcony. He didn't want to talk about his past, didn't want to risk seeing sympathy and pity on her face when what he really wanted was understanding.

So they returned to their old ways, both with their masks firmly in place as they went through the day's activities. And by day two, he didn't even have to work to appear as flippant as ever; he believed that all his concerns had been firmly pushed out of mind.

At present he was perched on the corner of Elizabeth's desk, waiting for her to return from a meeting with Carson so he could run some changes in protocol by her. He'd been waiting for nearly three minutes, and with each passing second it was growing more and more difficult not to pick up one of the figurines on her desk and start tossing it from hand to hand.

He gripped one of the stone figures and started to pull it toward him before he shook his head and released it. Fisting his hands, he concentrated instead on trying to count the threads in one of her wall hangings.

Elizabeth needed to get there soon, John thought, before his fidgety ways caused him to destroy something in her office.

Even as he thought it he heard her voice on the walkway. He turned his attention there and saw that she had noticed him, although she was still talking to Carson on her radio.

She finished up just as she entered her office. "What can I do for you, John?" she asked.

He stood up and she moved further into the room. "I just wanted to run some things by you."

"All right then," she said, starting for her chair. "What – " she stopped abruptly as she seemed to trip over something, pitching toward her desk.

John had barely begun to move when she caught herself on the flat desktop. She gave a hiss of pain, followed by a rueful laugh as she glanced down at her shoes.

"I obviously didn't tie these tightly enough," she said wryly, gesturing at her loose shoelaces.

John didn't reply. His brows drew together in worry and he grabbed her left hand, turning it over.

"What?" Elizabeth followed his gaze to her wrist – her slightly bloody wrist. "Oh. I thought I felt something when I caught myself." She glanced at her desk. "I must have nicked it on the figurine," she said, nodding at the item John had been playing with before her arrival.

The one he hadn't put back where it belonged; the one he'd left out so when she reached for her desk she'd hit it instead.

Elizabeth looked up at him, taking in his expression. "John? It's just a little cut. Look, it's already stopped bleeding."

He nodded and dropped her arm, taking two steps back. "You should go get that looked at," he said, before he turned walked quickly out of the room, leaving Elizabeth staring after him worriedly.

* * *

He made it to his room without encountering anyone, or rather, without encountering anyone who wanted to talk to him. Once inside he sat on the edge of his bed, balancing his elbows on his knees and cradling his head in his hands.

He took a shaky breath as he tried, unsuccessfully, to fight off the memories.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: This is the dark chapter. Writing it depressed me. You have been warned.

* * *

It was Kathy's scream that woke him up. Johnny rolled over, shoved at the covers, and climbed out of his bed, dragging Bear with him by one arm.

He fumbled a bit with the doorknob, not fully awake, but in a moment he was out in the hall. There was a light on in Mommy and Daddy's room, so he stumbled his way there, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

As he crossed the doorway, he could hear Kathy sobbing, and Daddy crying out. "Susan! God, Susan!"

They weren't in the bedroom, but there was a light on in the bathroom at the back of the room, so Johnny headed there. Before he got there he heard his father say, "Kathy, get me the phone! I need to call an ambulance!"

His father's voice sounded strange – scared and almost like he was crying (but Daddy never cried!), and when Kathy came running out to the bedroom to grab the phone off the bedside table and drag it back in, Johnny could see that she was really scared too.

He followed her into the bathroom, and stopped, not really understanding what he was seeing.

His first thought was that it was really silly for Mommy to take a bath with her clothes on. Then he wondered why the water was pink instead of clear or even bubbly. Daddy had pulled her half out of the tub, cradling her upper body in his arms as he struggled to wrap gauze around her wrists.

Daddy turned when Kathy brought him the phone, and saw Johnny. Then Daddy said one of those words that Johnny knew he wasn't supposed to say, 'cause if he did and Johnny copied him, Mommy would be mad at them both.

Daddy grabbed the phone and started dialing. "Get your brother out of here!" he yelled at Kathy, and then his sister turned and grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room, and as she did he saw Mommy's face and she looked asleep only not asleep and not like Mommy and he dropped Bear somewhere and then Kathy pushed him into his room and he started crying and couldn't stop.

* * *

After that Aunt Ruth came to stay with them for a while. Mommy was in the hospital at first, and Daddy spent all his time there or at work. Kathy tried to be a brave grown up girl but Johnny knew she cried in her room sometimes.

Johnny cried sometimes, too. He knew that Mommy had almost died, and that she had wanted to die. He couldn't understand why she wanted to leave them, though.

Even after Mommy came home, Aunt Ruth stayed with them. She was still there when summer ended, so she helped Kathy shop for school supplies for her fourth grade year, and she was the one who packed Johnny's snack and helped him get ready for kindergarten each morning. She stayed with them all the way up through Christmas and the New Year, and then she said that Johnny's Mom was doing much better and they had all decided that it was time for Aunt Ruth to leave.

And then it was just the four of them again, and even though things weren't the same, they were okay.

* * *

John ran a hand across his face, staring blankly at the wall for a minute before he stood up and abruptly walked to the bathroom. Once there he splashed some water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror.

He'd thought he'd pushed all this out of his mind, moved beyond it. And maybe he had, and wouldn't have been caught up in the memory if he hadn't sent that letter, hadn't been waiting for a reply when Elizabeth had cut her wrist. He knew he'd overreacted, and she was sure to come looking for him for an explanation later.

And maybe he would even tell her. But how much? All of it?

He thought back to his junior year of high school, when he'd stopped talking to his father, when Kathy had become a stranger instead of his sister. When his mother died.

* * *

John knew he was supposed to go straight home after school, but he really didn't want to. Not today, anyway. Not when Heather Bancroft was coming towards his locker after she'd spent all of lunch flirting with him.

He took his time putting his books away, shutting his locker just as she stopped beside him.

"A couple of us are going to Wympie's right now. Wanna come?" she asked.

He didn't want to seem too eager. "Well, I've kinda gotta go home..."

She looked disappointed. "Oh, well, we're just going for a little bit."

He grinned at her. "I guess I can go for a little bit." After all, Wympie's had the best waffle fries, and it _was_ on his way home.

As it turned out, they really didn't stay long, because Heather had to babysit and one of the other guys was supposed to be picking up his little brother from the middle school. So John was only about twenty minutes late getting home.

His father would kill him, he knew, for leaving his mother alone that long when someone was supposed to be with her all the time. But he figured that half the time his mother was late getting home from her book club meeting – something John usually blamed on the fact that the woman who drove her thought anything above 10 miles per hour was going too fast – so he really hadn't left her alone very long.

"I'm home!" he called as he kicked the front door shut behind him, dropping his bookbag on the floor and heading for the kitchen. The waffle fries were good, but he was still hungry.

"Mom!" he yelled, sticking his head inside the refrigerator and pulling out a block of cheese. "You here?"

When he got no answer he decided to check for her purse. Maybe she was even later getting back from book club than usual, and he wouldn't be in trouble at all. Leaving the cheese on the counter, he walked back to the front entryway, to the phone table where she usually left her bag.

Her bag was there, but John's attention was caught by the note on the pad of paper next to the phone.

The note that simply read "Book club cancelled."

His stomach dropped, and he turned and raced up the stairs to his parents' bedroom. "Mom!" he yelled, panic lacing his voice.

The door was closed, but John didn't even knock before he threw it open. "Mom?" he said, quieter now.

She was lying on the bed like she was sleeping, although she was wearing one of her best skirts and heels, and she had a hard rule about shoes on the bed. John walked forward slowly, reluctantly.

He was nearly to the bed when his foot hit something. Bending down he picked up the empty pill bottle. It must have rolled off the bed, he thought distantly.

The meaning of that suddenly crashed down on him, and he sprang back up, throwing himself on the bed. He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her hard. "Mom! Mom! Wake up!"

But she didn't.

* * *

The knock on his door brought him out of the memories this time. Even before he answered it, he knew it would be Elizabeth.

"Come in," he said, stepping back from the doorway so she could pass.

She did, watching him with concern. "I just came to see if you were okay."

He started to reassure her that he was fine, but something in her expression stopped him. Her earlier words floated back to him. 'We _are_ friends, John.' She would listen if he wanted to talk.

Well, he didn't want to talk. But maybe he needed to.

John gestured to a chair for her to take a seat, before he resumed his early position on the edge of the bed.

"You know how you were wondering why the mail was bothering me?" he asked.

She nodded, expression carefully neutral although he saw a spark of hope in her eyes.

"Well," he drawled, not really sure he wanted to tell her this but somehow knowing he had to. "When we were on Earth I sent a letter to my father. We haven't spoken for over twenty years."

Elizabeth crossed her legs, clasped her hands together, and prepared to listen.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I just want to be sure to say thank you for all of the reviews. This whole story kinda happened by accident, so I'm glad it's turning out all right! I also want to say that the bouncy balls contained herein are the product of sleep deprivation.

Also, there is the slightest hint of a spoiler for Conversion in this chapter.

* * *

Elizabeth didn't speak at all as John told her his story, a fact for which he was immensely grateful. 

He noticed her blink back tears a few times, and a spark of anger flickered in her eyes once, but for the most part she simply listened to him, face expressionless. Somehow it was easier to tell her like this, knowing that he didn't have to fear seeing pity or worse from her.

When he finished, he leaned forward, rubbing his hands together for a minute in the open space between his knees. He took a shaky breath and looked up.

"I don't know why I wrote to him. I guess... we were on Earth, after thinking we would never see it again. I guess I just wanted to see if he'd forgiven me yet.

Elizabeth started at that. "Forgiven you?" Her voice was soft but he could hear the incredulity.

"Yeah." At her confused expression, he continued. "For her death."

"John, you weren't..."

"I know," he said, cutting her off. "I've been over this before, Elizabeth. She took those pills long before I got home; there was nothing I could have done. But that doesn't mean I don't feel guilty. She'd been talking about suicide again, and my father didn't want us to ever leave her alone. I was supposed to be there. I _promised_ to be there. And I wasn't."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I _know_ that, Elizabeth!" he exclaimed, almost angry. "But I feel – felt – like it was. And so did Kathy and my father. We stopped speaking after that, and as soon as I graduated from high school I left. I haven't seen them since."

He sighed. "I was just hoping that they would want to talk to me. But I guess not."

There was nothing Elizabeth could say to make him feel better, to change his hurt. So she did the only thing she could.

Rising from her seat she stepped across the distance between them. She dropped to her knees beside him and reached for his hand, squeezing it hard and letting all of the respect and admiration she felt for him show in her eyes.

And if John read something more in there as well, it was only fair. Because she could see the same feeling reflected in his eyes, locked with her own.

* * *

Elizabeth had managed to avoid the temptation to read any more of her mail for nearly a week. The letters sat in a bundle on her desk, taunting her each day, but she resisted. She had an iron will. 

Of course, the three days when John's team was missing offworld was a useful, if rather unpleasant and worrisome, distraction.

They returned unscathed, much to Elizabeth's relief. Then again, she was almost inclined to believe that the four of them were indestructible – no matter how many times something happened to them, no matter how many scrapes they got into, they always seemed to survive. Not that it meant she worried any less.

This time they'd been delayed when Rodney, searching for the source of some power reading, had inadvertently cut all power to the gate, somehow taking it completely off the Stargate system. Atlantis had been unable to dial in to the planet, and the team had been unable to dial out. Elizabeth had been about to ask the Daedalus to go on a rescue mission when the team had returned to Atlantis.

Now that they were here, Elizabeth wasn't any too sure she wanted them to be. Rodney had found some sort of lab to be the source of the power, and had brought back from it samples of some type of rubber material that he assured her would mean big breakthroughs both in this galaxy and back on Earth. She was sending a sample of it with the Daedalus on their next trip, but in the meantime, the Atlantis personnel had discovered a new use for the material.

They'd made bouncy balls.

After the first one had smashed an instrument panel, she, Rodney, and Carson (who feared that the balls, which bounced with a much greater force than their Earth equivalents, might soon be responsible for broken limbs as well) had taken to confiscating them. John had helped them as well, until Elizabeth stopped by his office unexpectedly one day to find that he was simply creating his own stash and was practicing bouncing them off each other.

Presently, she was at her desk, still working her way through the reports the SGC wanted from her, reports she'd been putting off for days. She paused to give her eyes a rest, and leaned her head on one hand.

Her gaze fell on the book on her desk, the book from Dr. Roth. She hadn't put it back since reading Tom's letter, and lately she'd taken to reading the inscription whenever she felt stressed.

At first it had been hard, reinforcing her sorrow at his passing. But, more often now, reading it brought up memories of Dr. Roth.

As she opened it now, she smiled, remembering a meeting with him after her first paper for his class.

* * *

"I expected better of you, Elizabeth," Dr. Roth said, tapping the paper on his desk. 

Elizabeth was shocked, and she glanced at the circled grade once more to be sure she wasn't mistaken. "But... you gave me an A!"

He nodded and leaned back in his chair, elbows on the arms and fingers steepled. "Yes, I did. Because according to the grading rubric I provided, it meets all the standards for an A.

"But you are capable of more than this, and I expected better of you."

Elizabeth was torn between anger that he would critique her like this when she'd done all she was supposed to, and guilt that she'd disappointed this brilliant and distinguished man, this professor who had, in the short time she'd known him, already impressed her as one of the best people she'd ever met.

"What did you expect?" she asked.

"Your efforts at research were commendable, and you were very thorough in your analysis of some of your sources. But the paper sadly lacks references to the articles by Evans and Hart. And what of Jameson's discussion?"

Her research wasn't thorough enough? But she'd stayed up nights, poring over books in the library. And this wasn't exactly her only class. She told him so.

He simply raised an eyebrow at her.

"And Evans and Hart and Jameson all offer opinions directly opposite to my position!" she added.

"Exaclty. Think about it, Elizabeth. You want to change the world. When an opportunity comes along, will you simply avoid it, or give it less than your all, because you are busy? Would you remain ignorant of the ways in which you will be opposed, rather than attempt to understand their arguments, so that you may counter them?"

Dr. Roth tapped her paper again. "Generalizations and overviews have their place, Elizabeth, but you must never forego thoroughness in your preparation."

* * *

"Watcha reading?" John's voice startled her out of her reverie. 

Elizabeth looked up, still smiling. "Dr. Roth gave me this book for graduation," she replied.

He came to stand behind her, reading over her shoulder. "'Elizabeth – You give me hope for the future. I have faith in your ability to change the world. – Dr. Roth. Remember, thoroughness is key.'"

John tilted his head to one side, studying the title. "Elizabeth, this title is four lines long, and it's all about politics! How the hell did you ever read this?"

She had to laugh at that. "It is my field, John." Running a hand over the flyleaf, she closed the book and sighed. "I sometimes wonder if he would be – would have been – disappointed in me."

John shot her an incredulous look. "Disappointed? Elizabeth... the man wanted you to change the world. You're changing _galaxies_. I don't think he would have had any complaints."

She looked at him for a moment. "Thank you," she said finally, grateful for his belief in her.

They stayed locked in a gaze for a moment longer, and Elizabeth was reminded of what she'd seen (thought she'd seen? hoped she'd seen?) in his eyes days before, and then John cleared his throat and looked away, shoving his hand in his pocket and fiddling with something.

"So," Elizabeth said slowly. "Was there something you needed?"

He shrugged slightly, then shook his head. "Nah. I just finished with all my paperwork and thought I'd come hang out here for a while."

"I see. Well, you're welcome to stay," she nodded at the couches, "but I've got to get ahead on my work, John."

"That's okay," he replied. "I'll just sit here and watch."

Elizabeth would have found this odd, but she was just too happy to have him in such a cheerful mood. They hadn't had time for more than brief conversations since he told her about his mother – he'd left for a mission the next day, and since he'd come back things had been very busy.

But he seemed much lighter, as if telling her about his past and lifted a weight from his shoulders. She still caught him eyeing her bundle of mail jealously sometimes, but the one time she'd removed it from her desk, he'd angrily told her that she didn't have to shelter him. She'd brought it back the next day.

Elizabeth made it through two reports before it started.

**Thud**. _Slap_. **Thud**. _Slap_.

Her head snapped up, and she saw that John had taken something from his pocket and was now idly tossing it against the wall and catching it. **Thud**.

"John," she said warningly.

_Slap_. He caught the object and looked at her sheepishly. "Sorry."

Elizabeth nodded and bent her head over her computer once more.

The silence remained for another few minutes, before it started again.

**Thud**. _Slap_. **Thud**. _Slap._

This time she didn't even look up. "John!" she said harshly.

CRASH!

Elizabeth jumped from her chair, startled. She turned to John, who was staring wide eyed at the wall behind her.

She followed his gaze to find that the object he'd been playing with, one of the bouncy balls it appeared, had slipped from his hand to strike the glass wall. The glass wall which was now shattered in thousands of pieces on the floor.

"Oops," John said faintly.

* * *

It took the maintenance personnel a little over half an hour to completely clean the glass away and take measurements for a new pane. Because, Elizabeth thought wryly, of course it couldn't have been the window that had to be replaced before. No, this was a new wall. 

She'd confiscated John's rubber ball and sent him down to pester Rodney or Teyla. "Hell, go pick a fight with Ronon for all I care. Just get out of my office!" she'd yelled.

Now that he was gone and the mess was cleaned up, she was starting to fight a headache. And thanks to the various interruptions of the day she'd barely made it through a third of the work she'd wanted to do.

Elizabeth decided she needed to treat herself. If she had to work with children day in and day out, she deserved some reward. So she picked up her stack of letters, selecting one at random from the middle.

The return address showed that it was from a college roommate, one of the few college friends she'd stayed in contact with over the years. Andrea had lived in Washington while Elizabeth was at Georgetown, and whenever the world of politics and school got to be too much for her, Elizabeth would meet up with her friend for dinner on the town.

Elizabeth smiled in anticipation as she slit the envelope. Andrea's letters were always fun, containing anything from gossip to philosophical discussions, depending on her mood.

As she pulled out the letter, another envelope fell to the desk. She ignored it, figuring that Andrea had probably included a collection of random and amusing newspaper or magazine clippings, as she did from time to time.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth put the letter down, laughing quietly at Andrea's description of her upstairs neighbor's antics. She picked up the second envelope and was about to open it when the address label caught her attention.

Whoever was resealing envelopes at the SGC had obviously mistakenly put someone else's mail inside her own, she realized.

She took a second look at the address, and caught her breath. For a moment she could do nothing but stare, and then she toggled her radio.

"John? Could you come here a minute? There's something you need to see."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Well, I didn't expect this to end so quickly - especially since it's the only story I've posted without having it all mostly written down first. Oh, and this ending does NOT reflect the suggestion of one of my friends - that I go the unconventional route and have Elizabeth call him to her office because the envelope has anthrax in it. So... sorry, no such original ideas here.

Thanks to everyone for the reviews - there's nothing better than opening my e-mail to find I've had another one! I might not respond to them (probably, should, huh? I'm so lazy) but I really really do appreciate them.

There is a rather long letter in here – I hope it doesn't make this boring to read.

* * *

John tapped the envelope against his leg, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as he stared out his office windows.

He brought the letter up to stare at it for a minute, the dropped his hand and resumed tapping.

When Elizabeth had first called him into her office, he'd been worried that something was wrong. Well, actually, his first thought had been that she was going to yell at him about the bouncy ball incident some more, followed quickly by worry that something was wrong.

He'd hurried to her office, only to find her standing calmly beside her desk, arms folded as she looked out through the glass wall towards the Stargate.

"What did you need?" he'd asked.

Elizabeth turned to look at him, her expression serious. "I found something in one of my letters."

Wondering if it was more bad news for her, or if someone had sent her something regarding the expedition, he nodded for her to continue.

She walked back to her desk and picked up an envelope. "Whoever was sifting the mail at the SGC accidentally stuck another letter inside one of mine."

Elizabeth drew a breath. "John, it's for you."

He'd taken the letter she handed him, mumbled some sort of goodbye or excuse, and hastily retreated to his own office. He wasn't sure what the letter contained, but he knew he wanted to open it in private.

And Elizabeth would give him that privacy, at least for a little bit. But he also knew that she would be by eventually, checking on him.

So he supposed he should read the letter before then.

John turned away from the window, dropping into his chair and propping his feet on the desk. He held the envelope up one more time.

His name and the address were printed on the front, but there was no return address. He flipped it over and discovered that one had been printed on the back flap – no name, just a street address. His sister's address.

He wasn't sure if he had hoped it was from his father or not.

Finally, John reached for a knife and carefully slit the envelope open. A thick letter fell out – three pages long, he realized, flipping through them. He picked them up but intentionally didn't focus on the words.

He thought about going to get some coffee from the mess, or maybe finishing that inventory from the other day. But no, that would just be avoiding the whole issue, and he wanted to get this over with.

Raising the letter to eye level, he started to read.

* * *

_Dear Johnny,_

_You probably still hate being called that as much as you did in high school, but that is how I will always think of you._

_I was surprised to get your letter – surprised but happy. It's been so long, John, so so very long, and I missed you._

_I don't know what made you decide to write to me now, after all these years, but I'm glad for it. I'm glad for a chance to set things right. We all said some things back then that we shouldn't have. But you have to know that I never blamed you, Johnny. No matter what I said, I knew it wasn't your fault._

_I was angry – angry at Mom, for leaving us like that, for not loving us enough to stay with us, angry at myself for not being there, and later I was angry with you for cutting yourself off like you did. And I thought that if you didn't want anything to do with us, fine, we didn't need anything to do with you._

_But I couldn't blame you. And I hope that you don't blame yourself. Because if you're to blame, then so am I. I deliberately avoided coming home from school back then because I couldn't deal with it, didn't want to deal with it. So I should have been there, too, and I wasn't. And even Dad didn't want to deal with the situation._

_And he didn't blame you either, John. But like us, he was angry at Mom and at himself, and hurt, and he didn't know how to deal with it so he lashed out at you. And by the time he realized what he'd done, you were gone._

_None of us are to blame, and I can accept that now. I hope you can, too. I've even got over being angry at Mom. I admit, it took some time. After I finished college I didn't want anything to do with home, so I left. Moved to Oregon, worked as a waitress while I tried to find a job in my field. But I was still so angry, and one day I just lashed out, started breaking plates at work, and I realized that I needed help. So I found someone to talk to._

_It was a long and bumpy road, but I'm okay now. I called Dad up, and we started working on repairing things. We tried to find you, but we couldn't. You've always been smarter than you let on, and you didn't want to be found. We learned as much as we could, but whatever you were doing, the Air Force didn't really want to talk about it either._

_Dad used to make up stories about you, you know. "My son, the pilot – he's rescued people on every continent." Or "My son, John, can fly any machine they make."_

_We used to wonder if you had a family, if you'd told them about us._

_I've been putting this off as long as I can, but I have to tell you this._

_Dad died, just a few days after we got your letter, which is why it took me so long to reply. He was sick – he'd caught pneumonia – and he was already kind of frail. He spent a lot of time drunk in the years after Mom died, and it wore down his body._

_But he hung on long enough for us to get your letter. And while it didn't tell us a whole lot about what you're doing, it was enough for us to know you're alive and well._

_He wanted me to say he missed you, and he was proud of you. I am, too._

_I hope you'll be able to come visit sometime. I don' know where you are – I feel like it must be far away – but if you're back in the States sometime, I would love to see you. And I want to introduce you to my family (yes, I'm married with kids!) – I think you'll like being Uncle John!_

_I love you._

_Love,_

_Kathy_

_P.S. Now that I have an address for you, I'm going to send you a letter every week. We have a lot of catching up to do!

* * *

_

John was surprised when a drop of water hit the page in front of him, and he brought a hand to his eyes. They were brimming with tears, something that hadn't happened to him for a long time.

He blinked the tears away and leaned back in his chair. His thoughts were jumbled, and he couldn't make any sense of them. He stared at the ceiling, losing himself in the memories of his sister and father. And his mother. Thinking back to times of joy, focusing on those rather than the bad memories – the trip to the playground when Kathy had fallen off the swing; the trip to the zoo when John had tried to climb into the monkey cage; going to an ice cream shop as a teenager, secretly having fun even though he felt like he had to act too cool to enjoy going out with his parents.

A tentative knock on his doorframe brought him back to reality, and John looked up to see Elizabeth standing outside his office.

"I just came by to see if you were okay," she said.

He dropped his feet to the floor and tilted his head to one side, considering the question. "I'm okay," he said finally.

She nodded, coming into the room and perching on the edge of his desk, as he often did in her office.

John gestured with the papers he was still holding. "It's from my sister."

"Did she... was it..." Elizabeth trailed off, not really sure what she wanted to ask.

"It's a good letter," he assured her. And it was, mostly. His father's death was there, looming at the back of his mind, bringing with it the additional sorrow that he hadn't been able to talk to the man before his death. But he didn't want to talk about it right now.

He would talk to Elizabeth, eventually. He had to tell her – it was as if now that he'd shared part of his life with her, he wanted to share the rest of it.

The realization scared him, but not as much as he thought it would. Somewhere along the way his friendship with Elizabeth had started crossing a line into something more, and he was okay with that.

She was smiling at him, eyes bright with relief, and she looked so beautiful in that moment, and he was so wrapped up in his thoughts and his own relief at Kathy's response and holding his grief for his father at bay a little longer that he had stood up and reached out for her before he even realized it.

And then he was kissing Elizabeth, and he couldn't think about anything else for a while.

When he drew back, he could see the confusion on her face, the uncertainty in her eyes. Uncertainty, but to his relief no rejection. "John..."

"I'm..." He couldn't say he was sorry, because he wasn't, not really. Sorry maybe that he hadn't picked a better time, but not sorry that he'd kissed her.

He shook the letter, still clenched in one fist. "I was celebrating?" he said, hating the questioning tone in his voice.

Elizabeth watched him for a minute, and then nodded, a smile playing across her lips. She would accept that for the moment, although he could tell from her eyes that they both knew it was more than that. And that she was as okay with it as he was.

* * *

It took Elizabeth several tries to find John. He wasn't in his quarters, even though he was off duty – not that she'd really expected him to be. She'd stopped by the gym, but the only occupants were Ronon and Teyla, engaging in such an intense sparring match that Elizabeth worried either that both of them would end up in the infirmary, or that she'd have to deal with an alien wedding before the year was out.

John wasn't in his office and he wasn't playing guinea pig for Rodney. She walked down a corridor, thinking that she would have to resort to calling him on the radio – something she didn't want to do because it was more fun to come upon him unannounced, when she heard a noise to her left, from the armory.

Once in the room she heard John before she saw him. "Damn paper work, all these stupid forms. If I'd realized all the boring work that came with this promotion..." he trailed off, grumbling to himself.

"Tired of being Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard already?" she asked, startling him.

"Don't do that to me!" he said.

"Sorry," she replied, although she couldn't stop her lips from curving up into a smile. "What are you doing?"

"I'm finishing the inventory. I never did, and I forgot to set someone else to do it, and now it's a couple of weeks overdue so I have to do it."

"I see."

"I was actually just about to come looking for you," he said. "Was going to see if you wanted to have coffee on the balcony."

Elizabeth had to smile at that. They'd been doing this quite a lot recently – if they'd been on Earth she would have said they were dating. Coffee on the balcony, dinner in the mess, taking walks in other parts of the city. And talking – about anything and everything, even sometimes about his past.

And he'd smuggled back a pretty flower from one of his offworld trips, just because she'd commented about how she'd missed having fresh flowers in her office. He'd even mentioned, casually, taking her up in a puddle jumper and doing a flight tour.

But they weren't on Earth, and she wasn't really sure how to define their relationship. Someday soon they'd probably have to talk about it, but in the meantime she was just going to enjoy herself.

"I'd like that," she said.

"Great!" he turned back to the inventory. "Just give me another fifteen minutes here."

Suddenly he seemed to remember that she was the one who'd come hunting for him. "So... why were you looking for me?"

Elizabeth clasped her hands together. "Caldwell's making preparations to leave tomorrow. He wanted me to ask all the senior personnel if they had anything else they needed to send to Earth."

John shot her a look. They both knew that she could have easily asked him this via radio, instead of coming to find him herself. Elizabeth blushed slightly.

He smiled, then thought about her question.

"Actually, Elizabeth, can we make that coffee in thirty minutes? I want to write a letter to my sister."


End file.
